


i'll go to your show, but i'm not gonna dance

by love_killed_the_superstar



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Band Fic, Bisexual Eugene (Disney: Tangled), Bisexual Lance (Disney: Tangled), Bisexual Rapunzel (Disney), Developing Relationship, F/F, Lesbian Cassandra (Disney: Tangled), Multi, Open Mic, Polyamory, Singing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_killed_the_superstar/pseuds/love_killed_the_superstar
Summary: Rapunzel glances to the side and once again her eyes fall on the young woman hunched over her drink two seats away, guitar slung over her back. She pays no mind to the current performance, seeming instead to still be actively texting somebody. Rapunzel can’t help being a star witness to the way this woman’s brow crinkles in annoyance, the wrinkling of her nose, the way in which her lips purse sourly. She’s beautiful, all raven curls and olive green eyes and long fingers…"Hey," Rapunzel says without thinking.The stranger looks up, and striking grey eyes meet hers.(Rapunzel and Cassandra meet at an open mic, and it's love at first song.)
Relationships: Cassandra/Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Cassandra/Rapunzel (Disney: Tangled), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Lance Strongbow, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	i'll go to your show, but i'm not gonna dance

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the ever so vaguely Carole & Tuesday AU that nobody asked for, lmao.  
> What started off as an excuse to plug my music tastes got away from me and turned into a multi-chaptered beast that probably isn't even that enjoyable to anyone but me but HEY, what is the point of writing fanfiction if not to amuse yourself? And so the beat plays on.  
> This is a fic about MUSIC and cool people who listen to COOL MUSIC so there will be plenty of MUSIC plugs in here (with timestamps, for ~narrative purposes~) which include:  
> -Counting Crows: Mr. Jones  
> -Neko Case: Star Witness  
> -Franz Liszt: Liebestraum No. 3 (Love Dream)

When Rapunzel and Eugene swing through the doors, high-fiving the bouncer on the way in, they’re met with a smokey room full of excited chatter and  [ the distant sound of Counting Crows playing from a tiny radio at the back of the bar. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oqAU5VxFWs)

The Snuggly Duckling doesn’t often attract a big crowd, but a former member of the stage crew, who goes only by the moniker of Hookhand, has returned to the area for the first time since his tour began three years prior to give a one-off performance. It’s an informal drop-in on The Snuggly Duckling’s weekly open mic, just for old times’ sake, but word spreads fast in the digital age and plenty of his fans have shown up along with the usual crowd of regulars.

Neither of them knew about this when Eugene had signed up to perform last week, and now he’s paying the price.

“Of course,” Eugene complains, fingers drumming on the bar as he watches the bartender make their drinks with a scowl. His nerves are dressed up as impatience; Rapunzel would probably point out his sour attitude otherwise. Instead, she squeezes his arm in comfort. “Of course the one time I actually have a free moment to try out my routine on the stage, Hookhand of all people breezes back into town and brings his whole fanclub with him. Did he ever stop to think I might want the place quiet for once?!”

“Eugene, come on,” Rapunzel sighs fondly, nudging him with her arm. “Hookhand didn’t plan this just to sabotage you. Either way, you’ll be great! You’ve spent long enough practicing in front of the mirror, after all.”

“Well,  _ that  _ instills some confidence,” he says dryly.

“And you tried out the routine last time we visited my parents,” Rapunzel reminds him, giggling at the memory of it.

“Your father told me if I ever showed my face in a comedy club after a set like that they’d laugh me right out the door.”

“Well, doesn’t that just mean that they’re laughing? That’s a good thing!”

“You know what he meant,” Eugene mutters, rolling his eyes. “As if old Fred has ever laughed at  _ anything  _ in his ninety long years on Earth.”

“Jokes like that are why he doesn’t give you glowing feedback.”

“At least your mom pretended to find me funny.” The bartender hands over their drinks and Eugene knocks his back in two swallows. “Well, screw Fred! Just because my situational comedy is rooted in my history of petty crime and pop culture references doesn’t mean it isn’t good!”

He hands back his empty glass and swipes his card once more.

“Is that sensible?” Rapunzel asks with raised eyebrows, nursing her glass of strawberry daiquiri.

“It’s liquid courage,” he says with a wink, throwing his arm around her shoulder and hugging her close. “Thanks for coming with me tonight, sunshine. I know you have work to do, so it means a lot that you came to cheer me on.”

“Eugene, I was  _ never  _ going to miss your big debut,” Rapunzel chides. “Besides, like you always say, ‘all work and no play’, right? My paintings can wait one night.”

“If you’re absolutely sure.”

“I’m positive,” she reinforces, grinning up at him. “I have a good feeling about tonight. It’ll be magical.”

The bartender hands him his refill and he takes a long, slow sip.

“Yeah, I’m with you there,” he says with a happy sigh. “I can feel the magic working already.”

The open mic starts at 8pm sharp, and it’s the usual line-up of musicians and comics for the first two hours, with the occasional slam poetry thrown in there. One of the regulars, whose name Rapunzel has never caught and whom Eugene has always affectionately called Big Nose, traipses on with a sonnet prepared for his sweetheart, who is watching the dictation through his ipad while on a break from her night shift.

Around the two hour mark, a woman with an acoustic guitar strapped to her back sits down at the bar a few seats away, never once taking her eyes away from the phone she’s furiously typing on. Rapunzel wouldn’t have looked twice if not for all the cursing she did under her breath, and the continuous noise of her short fingernails tapping against a semi-cracked screen.

Another of the Snuggly Duckling clique, Ulf, does the same exact mime routine he does every week, and like clockwork, the crowd offer up just enough polite applause to appease him. The overflow crowd, clearly only here for Hookhand, talk in confused murmurs as he bows and twirls off of the stage.

“Can you believe he hasn’t changed his routine in over a year at this point?” Eugene laughs, as one of the hosts laughs nervously and begins rattling off the usual sponsors. “The man’s up there every week, same time slot, same exact routine, without fail. What possesses him? I’ve tried asking, only he refuses to break character as long as he’s in the costume. Which happens to be every goddamn time I see him.”

“He’s dedicated to his profession,” Rapunzel giggles. “A true performer, through and through.”

Three more musical acts go on in succession.

“So… I guess Lance couldn’t come tonight?” Rapunzel probes tentatively, in between performances. Eugene shrugs, but she doesn’t miss the flash of disappointment on his face when she asks.

“Not tonight. Some other time, I guess. He said Big Nose is gonna film my set on his ipad though, put it on the bar’s Facebook page so I can try and get some traction.”

Rapunzel reaches over to squeeze his hand. “Still, Eugene, I’m sorry. I know you wanted him to be here too.”

“Hey now, don’t go making me sad right before I go on,” he protests, reaching over to tuck a stray piece of hair from her face. He cups her face and traces her cheek with his thumb, tickling it slightly to prise a giggle from her. “Lance said he’d make it up to me one way or another.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt  _ that,” _ Rapunzel grins, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “He’s always been good at making you forget all your problems.”

“I don’t care for what you’re implying, blondie, he’s nothing but a gentleman,” he retorts, stealing away her drink in retaliation and finishing it off. He grimaces, shuddering a little as he hands the empty glass back to her.

“Yuck, that was sweet. And I’m pretty sure it just gave me brain-freeze.”

“Well that serves you right, it was  _ my  _ drink,” she points out, giving his arm a playful left hook. “We’ll toast with something less fruity once your set is over, okay?”

“You know it, sunshine.” Glancing at his phone, he rises to his feet. “Right, I’m on next. Wish me luck!”

Eugene presses a kiss to the top of her head and she squeezes his hand, before letting go as he leaves the bar and melts into the crowd.

As Eugene disappears behind the doors leading backstage, Rapunzel glances to the side and once again her eyes fall on the young woman hunched over her drink two seats away, guitar slung over her back. She pays no mind to the current performance, seeming instead to still be actively texting somebody. Her face contorts in frustration as the virtual conversation goes on, and Rapunzel can’t help being a star witness to the way this woman’s brow crinkles in annoyance, the wrinkling of her nose, the way in which her lips purse sourly. Now that she takes a closer look, she’s  _ beautiful, _ all raven curls and olive green eyes and long fingers…

"Hey," Rapunzel says without thinking.

The stranger looks up, and striking grey eyes meet hers.

"...Can I help you?" The woman asks, eyebrows raised a little in bemusement. Rapunzel offers a tentative wave and glances at the guitar strapped to the woman's back.

"Are you performing tonight?"

"No, I just decided to lug a heavy instrument here to be quirky," the woman deadpans. Rapunzel laughs.

"Ouch, all right."

"...What about you?"

"Not tonight," Rapunzel explains with a smile. "I'm here to support my boyfriend. He's up next!"

"What's he do?"

"Stand up. He's really good," Rapunzel insists, upon seeing the woman's dubious expression. "What time are you on? It’s coming up to the end, I think."

The woman hesitates, checks her phone, and then admits, "I don't think I  _ am  _ performing tonight, actually."

"Oh? How come?"

The woman doesn't answer, and the current act draws to a close. The crowd bursts into polite applause, and under the roar of cheering, "I've never performed alone before."

"You're waiting for somebody then?" Rapunzel probes. The host shakes the hand of the performer and begins rattling off social media handles as the applause dies down. The woman rests her chin in her hands and eyes Rapunzel, as though gauging how much she can get away with disclosing to this total stranger.

"I thought I was, but… I think she's made herself clear that she isn't going to show up."

"And there's no way you can perform on your own?" Rapunzel continues to press, brow furrowed. The woman purses her lips resolutely, before saying firmly, "I’m only here  _ right now _ because of her. I don't perform solo."

"Yeah, but  _ couldn't _ you?"

She stares at Rapunzel, opening and closing her mouth, trying to form a response.

"Well, folks," the host interrupts, and Rapunzel tears her gaze away from the woman opposite, "tonight we have a brand new performer with us! He's fun, he's pretty, he's a snarky bastard who's been lurking in this bar as a patron since the day he could drink… tonight, making his comedic debut after  _ years _ of empty promises… Eugene Fitzherbert!"

The crowd breaks into polite applause, with a couple of louder cheers from the regulars who know Eugene personally. Rapunzel cheers loudly, grinning from ear to ear as Eugene makes his way out onto the stage, nodding and giving a quick wave. His face softens a little as his eyes land on Rapunzel, and he takes a deep breath before grinning widely.

“So, hi there! It's been a great evening, right? Anyway, my name is Eugene.” He pauses for a second, scanning the crowd as they watch silently, and Rapunzel gives him a reassuring thumbs up. When his eyes fall on her he takes another deep breath and continues, plastering on a smile. “I know what you’re thinking. What kind of unlucky son of a bitch name is Eugene, right? Well, I can upstage  _ that _ . You think Eugene is a painfully unfitting name for this handsome mug? Try  _ Eugene Fitzherbert. _ What the hell were they thinking, right?!”

This garners a few laughs, and his smile widens.

“Go ahead and laugh, it’s fine. Everybody  _ else  _ did at the orphanage!” The laughter abruptly stops and he grins. “Aha! I hear that guilty silence. It’s okay, really! I’m over the whole childhood abandonment thing. At least, until I watch  _ Lilo & Stitch _ or something and they - you know, the bit where he’s sat in the rain? And talking about Ohana? Then I retreat to go cry in the bathtub while my girlfriend spoon-feeds me takeout.”

More laughter. Rapunzel’s heart swells. He’s up here in his element, and the crowd is actually loving it. She’s been telling him for months that he has what it takes to make his debut as a comic, but she supposes it’s hard for him to believe her fully when she has the habit of seeing the best in everybody.

Still, seeing him now, basking in the amusement and intrigue of the audience, she knows he can see that she was right to believe in him.

The woman Rapunzel has been talking to is also watching with intrigue, although she keeps periodically glancing back to her phone to check for incoming messages.

“So to bounce off of my sad little childhood, let me tell you a more… uplifting story. I actually reconnected with my birth father recently. It’s  _ weird _ , being reunited with family members you’d basically given up on after 26 years. You expect this big dramatic showdown, right? When I think of estranged family reunions, for whatever reason  _ Kubo and the Two Strings _ comes to mind every time.” The audience laughter is a little lighter now, a little more confused. “Look, if I had to explain the intricacies of why that is above and beyond Laika’s best movie we’ll be here all night, but the reunion is full of fighting and drama, right? Family hunting down family because they’re traitors to the moon kingdom, or - anyway, you get the gist! I was expecting the same with my dad. Cause all I had was a name. ‘Edmund Fitzherbert the Third’ - Jesus Christ, right? What kind of a long-lost medieval prince am I?! So I got his name and a blurry profile picture on one of those shitty DNA testing websites. Yes, I get it, I fucked up and sold my DNA! Will it connect me to past crimes someday? Probably!”

As he begins listing off various crimes he’s been caught up in over the years, the woman sitting near Rapunzel turns to her.

“He’s not bad,” she offers, before unlocking her phone once more.

“Right? He’s worked so hard for this. You know this is his  _ first time _ up there?” Rapuzel declares, a little smug that he’s won over the woman’s approval.

“Actually I can, because he’s incriminating himself live on stage. Maybe he should tone down bragging about his life of crime,” the woman muses. “You’d almost think he was proud of it.”

“Unfortunately he is,” Rapunzel sighs, shaking her head fondly. “He’s doing better though. I help him toe the line.”

“Right, because it’s  _ your  _ responsibility whether he makes good choices or not, right?”

“Yes. Wait, what? No! That’s not what I’m saying!” Rapunzel argues, face contorting in displeasure.

The woman rolls her head and turns back to her phone again.

“It’s not, okay?” Rapunzel reinforces. The woman shrugs and says nothing, leaving Rapunzel to fume silently at her for a few moments before snapping back to attention.

Crap, she’s missing Eugene’s set.

“...So anyway, the big day arrives,” he continues, reaching over to take a sip of water before continuing. “The train he was on arrived late, and as I was sitting there on that cold  _ fucking  _ metal chair in the waiting room, something in me pictured like - I don’t know, some scene from  _ The Revenant _ ? He’s said he’s excited to meet me but really he wants me to die so we both jump up onto the roof of a moving train and fight to the death while he’s wearing a bearskin? I don’t know, I never saw that movie. Anyway-” The crowd bursts out laughing at that and he laughs with them for a moment.

“I don’t have the attention span for that kind of man-pain movie, okay? I couldn’t give a shit what it’s  _ actually  _ about! Anyway, when he gets here he brought, I’m not joking, this old crow with him in one of those portable cage things. I didn’t even think you could take those things on trains anymore, this isn’t  _ Harry Potter! _ Jesus! He tells me the crow’s name is Hamuel - yes, you heard me. The bird’s name is - it’s Hamuel. Along with the weirdness of bringing his god-damn bird with him, this guy is like… I’d say at least 6’8’’. Maybe bigger than that. For comparison, I am…  _ not  _ 6’8’’, except maybe in my dreams. Yes, laugh it up. I am a manlet. I’m aware of this fact.”

Rapunzel’s gaze wanders a little to the right as the crowd roars. Hookhand’s brother (who, over the years, Eugene has started jokingly calling Hookfoot to the point that it’s unfortunately stuck) is pushing through the crowd and passes by Rapunzel, instead going to the woman still in a heated conversation over text.

“You’re on in five,” he tells her gruffly. Her head snaps up.

“No, not yet. I’m waiting for somebody.”

“Look, either you play tonight or you don’t. My brother’s closing the show and he wants to be out of here by eleven cause he’s gotta leave town in the morning.”

“Then tell him to go home already, Jesus! I’m not the gatekeeper of his goddamn bedtime.”

“Cassandra.” His voice is stern. “Don’t be a shithead. Are you playing or not?”

She scowls, glancing down at her phone screen for a few seconds to read an incoming text. She then cranes her neck to peer at Rapunzel, eyes searching. Rapunzel, past grievance with the woman forgotten, flashes her a reassuring smile.

“Go on,” she mouths, gesturing double thumbs up.

The woman reluctantly turns back to Hookfoot and mutters, “Fine. I’ll play.”

“Gratitude. We love to see it,” he mutters, shaking his head before trudging back towards the backstage area. The woman stares down at her phone again, types some response with a thunderous look on her face, and shots the rest of her drink before rising to her feet. Her eyes flicker over to Rapunzel, just for a fraction of a moment, and she gives a slight nod towards her before she passes by and follows Hookfoot.

“...And as if the name Eugene isn’t bad enough,” Eugene finishes, “this smug bastard has the gall to tell me they were originally going to name me Horace!  _ Horace Fitzherbert! _ I mean, if my actual name was Horace Fitzherbert would  _ any  _ of you have listened to what I came here to say tonight?”

Beyond the faded curtains, the spot where she’s standing reveals a slither of the wings. And with it, a slither of the woman waiting to come on next.

Rapunzel can’t make out much, just that she’s doing some last minute fiddling with the guitar now slung across her front. Tension radiates off her body, and the inner busybody in Rapunzel is tempted to sneak backstage to give her a pep talk or at least some quick massage to ease the tension out of those shoulders. Of course, the woman would probably rip her a new one if she tried.

“Anyway, it was a delightful meeting, definitely not awkward at all, and despite my burning contempt for the guy, we’re planning on doing it again some time,” Eugene finishes with a chuckle.

Laughter ripples throughout the room and he beams, nodding his head a few times and clapping his hands together.

“Well, folks, that’s about all from me. In just under ten minutes you’ve learned more about me than my father has learned in 26 years, how about that. Goodnight!”

He’s met with a wide applause as he disappears back into the wings, high-fiving the host on his way off stage. As the host begins to rattle off some social media handles for Eugene and upcoming comedy nights at the venue, Rapunzel lingers by the edge of the bar, waving Eugene over as he emerges back through the double doors. His face is glowing with pride, and a few of the regular comics clap him on the back as he approaches.

“Sunshine!”

“There’s the comic of the hour,” she greets, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You did great!”

Face flushed with pride, he shrugs and goes to the bar.

“Can I get a couple jack and cokes for me and my girl here?”

The bartender starts to fix the drinks and he slings an arm around Rapunzel, pulling her in close.

“ _ Thank you _ for encouraging me to do this. I didn’t think I was ready, but… it actually went really well!”

Rapunzel hugs him again and beams up at him. “They loved you, Eugene. Highlight of the night, I’d say!”

They take their drinks and clink them together in a toast, before taking a sip. Eugene turns back to the bar to tap his card against the reader, and Rapunzel watches with bated breath as the host finishes his announcements.

“All right, the penultimate act before our beloved Hookhand takes the stage.” The crowd bursts into applause, clearly excited for his upcoming performance. “Yes, yes, we’re all looking forward to seeing him. But first, let us welcome to the stage: another first-timer here at The Snuggly Duckling, who has come to play a song for us all!”

The crowd, less than enthusiastic at having to wait a little longer, lightly applauds as the woman from earlier makes her way onto the stage. She doesn’t have the same kind of stage presence that Eugene came on with. While strikingly beautiful, especially against the harsh stage lights, there’s no infectious confidence that puts the crowd at ease. She stands center stage, gripping her guitar and staring out at the expectant crowd as if searching for someone but unable to place them. There’s a grimace; an uncertainty at the notion of performing without whoever she had been texting earlier.

Nonetheless, she’s made it this far, so persists.

There's a little feedback as she clears her throat and she winces, moving back a little before speaking. "...Good evening. Um, I'm Cass and this is  _ Star Witness _ by Neko Case."

[ She starts to strum in D major, ](https://youtu.be/Wf501dawN58?t=31) and at first not too many people pay attention. After all, open mics come with plenty of singer-songwriters, and they've already heard half a dozen tonight. But as soon as she shuts her eyes and opens her mouth, a hush falls over the room.

_ My true love drowned in a dirty old pan of oil _

_ That did run from the block _

_ Of a Falcon Sedan 1969 _

_ The paper said '75 _

_ There were no survivors _

_ None found alive _

"Jesus, this is morbid," Eugene mutters beside Rapunzel, but she shushes him. The singer in front of them - Cass - has a voice that Rapunzel is sure will haunt her brain for weeks to come. It's strong, powerful, more controlled than the acts that came before. But beyond technical skill, it's the sorrowful edge to her voice that grips Rapunzel, rooting her to the floor. There's a sadness there as she sings, almost like crying, and Rapunzel is mystified at the way the notes rattle in her throat. The silence amongst the audience tells her they're equally stunned at the tonal shift this performance has brought to the room as she bursts into the chorus.

_ Hey when she sings, when she sings _

_ When she sings like she runs _

_ Moves like she runs _

_ Hey when she moves, when she moves _

_ When she moves like she runs _

_ Moves like she runs _

_ Hey there, there's such deadly wolves round town tonight _

_ Round the town tonight _

_ Hey there, there's such deadly wolves round town tonight _

_ Round the town tonight _

The way the harsh cool stage lighting shines off of the dark coils of her hair; the way she sways slightly, as if pushed by a breeze while she plays on; the way her voice lilts with a sharp, bittersweet quality… Rapunzel can’t help but be sucked into the world that this woman is painting with her voice, just for a little while.

The audience are no longer stricken into silence, a few beginning to murmur amongst themselves, and the bar staff resume their work while occasionally glancing back towards the stage as the woman sings on.

“So who’s this, then?” Eugene asks Attila, who clocked in somewhere in between the last acts. He shrugs, handing over a craft beer to the customer he’s currently serving.

“Only know her name’s Cassandra and she’s some blow-in from some of the other bars in town. That’s all Hookfoot’s told me, anyway. She sings good.”

“The host said it was her first time performing, right?”

“Sure, it’s her first time  _ here. _ Think I’ve seen her singing before, over at The Glass Sipper, but she’s only dropped by here a couple times for a drink. Keeps to herself, mostly.”

“The Glass Sipper? Talk about a crummy atmosphere. No wonder her song choice is so morbid,” he mutters. Rapunzel shoves him lightly, still watching the stage.

“Shush, I think it’s good,” she murmurs. He pushes her back with a grin, before turning back to Attila and asking if he’s seen where Big Nose got off to with the recording of his set.

The slight clinking of glasses and hushed conversations continue to fill the room, but Rapunzel can’t take her eyes away from the hypnotising performance before her as the woman - Cassandra - launches into the final verse.

_ Go on, go on and scream and cry _

_ You're miles from where anyone will find you _

_ This is nothing new, no television crew _

_ They don't even put on the sirens _

_ My nightgown sweeps the pavement, please _

_ Don't let him die _

The final pleading words come out so quiet, so vulnerable, it brings a tight feeling to Rapunzel’s chest. She’s always been easily moved by music and poetry and the like, so it’s really no surprise that such a poignant performance would bring that out in her, but sharing that feeling with a perfect stranger across the room is something of a rarity for her. The song dies down with the last few chords, and finally the woman opens her eyes, once again searching the crowd for somebody who isn’t there. This time, she catches Rapunzel watching.

The room is silent for a beat once the song comes to a close, where nothing else exists but Rapunzel and the woman on stage and the voiceless look the two of them share as their eyes meet. Then, the applause starts. It startles the woman out of her thoughts and she hurriedly ducks her head, giving an awkward wave before shuffling off of the stage.

The host comes out a beat later, baffled at how fast the woman left.

“Well then! That sure was something, huh, folks? Now, please stand by while we - yep, while we get a hold of Hookhand, he seems to have stepped out for a moment there…”

The host once again launches into local sponsors, as well as upcoming karaoke nights for the bar, while the stage crew start to look for Hookhand.

“Well, that was a bit… depressing,” Eugene says, to break the ice. “I mean, it was good - man, that girl has some pipes - but uh. A little out there to follow a comedy act, don’t you think?”

“I loved it,” breathes Rapunzel. She takes a sip of her drink and glances around the venue, waiting for the woman on stage to emerge.

“Well, to each their own. Hey - blondie? You in there?”

He taps the top of her head playfully and she tilts her head up to him, bemused.

“Huh?”

“You’re spacing out. Wait - don’t tell me.” His face splits into a playful grin. “Uh oh, do you  _ like  _ her?”

“What? Eugene, that’s - no way, I don’t even know her!”

“Like that would stop you,” he laughs, nudging her. “Seriously, sunshine, has she caught your eye?”

“I… Maybe. It remains to be seen!” She blows a strand of hair from her eyes in frustration. “You know, she was kind of rude about you during your set.”

“What, she didn’t like it?” Eugene wilts a little at that.

“No, she did!” Rapunzel backtracks quickly. “She just. She said something to me about, I don’t know, me babying you into being a better person and it rubbed me the wrong way.”

“Well, you  _ do  _ tend to steer me towards making better life choices,” laughs Eugene. “Is it really rude if it’s true?”

As Rapunzel goes to protest further, the lights dim a little. Hookfoot comes onto the stage, lights on him, and clears his throat.

“And now, the man you tasteless bastards all came to see - my dickhead of a brother, the one and only Hookhand!”

The audience breaks out into applause, but Rapunzel, who was so excited to see her old time friend perform again, now suddenly can’t bear to be in the room. Not while her mind is racing like this. Out of the corner of her eye she spies a familiar guitar slung over the back of a person now hurriedly making their way towards the fire exit. Hookhand waves his hook in a playful greeting towards the audience  [ before playing the first few notes, and as they erupt with cheers, Rapunzel hastily follows the woman out. ](https://youtu.be/MBOa-2b4uQQ?t=4)

It’s just beginning to spit with rain, and she catches the woman with her phone out, listening to the dial tone in despair.

“Fuck! Really, you’re just going to ignore my calls?!” Taking a deep breath, she presses a button. “Hey, Stal, thanks for not fucking taking my call. I was really counting on you tonight. I thought… I don’t know. What else would I expect, right? Anyway, I went up there without you. Call me back for the grisly details.”

She ends the recording and sends it off, and leans back against the damp brickwork with a sigh.

“Hey.”

The woman almost jumps out of her skin, darting away from the wall and raising her balled fist as though ready to strike. Rapunzel holds up her free hand in surrender, waving awkwardly. The woman’s eyes widen in recognition, before a scowl takes over.

“Don’t startle people like that,” she mutters, arm falling back to her side.

“Sorry.” With a smile she hopes doesn’t look too dopey, she adds, “I just… I had to come find you.”

“Oh, you  _ had  _ to?”

“Well, you were incredible!” Rapunzel remarks. “The strumming, your voice, it was all…  _ wow.” _

“This is about my set?” The woman rubs the back of her head. “I thought you’d come to chew me out about what was said at the bar.”

“...Well, yeah, I’m here about that too,” Rapunzel admits, a little less enthused. “But… as my boyfriend said, I suppose it isn’t super rude if there’s some truth to it.”

“Rudeness and honesty can coexist, you know,” the woman points out. “I was  _ trying  _ to be rude so you’d stop talking to me, not to give you some kind of reality check.”

Rapunzel frowns.

“You really could have just told me that outright.”

With a wordless shrug, the woman glances back at her phone one more time, before slipping it into her pocket.

“Anyway,” Rapunzel says brightly, willing to bury the hatchet, “I think your performance was wonderful.”

The woman shrugs again. “For a bare-bones performance, I suppose it went all right.”

“Bare-bones?”

“I wasn’t supposed to go on solo, but… that’s what happens when your ex decides she still has hard feelings about the break up, I guess.”

Rapunzel grins before she can help herself.  _ So she’s queer. Nice. _

“It was beautiful,” she offers.

“It needed bass,” the woman says shortly. “And harmonies.”

“...Well,” Rapunzel continues awkwardly, “I thought it was really lovely, er… Cass, is it?”

“Cassandra.” Her eyes are bright with something challenging. “Only people I’d die for get to call me Cass.”

Rapunzel tilts her head slightly, lips pulling into a smile.

“Okay, fair enough. How long til I get Cass privileges?”

Cassandra smirks a little and lowers her head. “Pretty hard to get to that point if we don’t actually know each other.”

“Hey, we’ve already had… two conversations. Okay, fair, that’s not a lot, but we’ll be friends in no time! I can feel it.” Rapunzel toys with a stubborn strand of hair that has a habit of falling into her eyes at inopportune moments. “So, why  _ did  _ you go up tonight, if you knew you were going up alone?”

With a frown, Cassandra folds her arms. “Well, I’d already made the journey here and paid the fee at the door, and believe it or not, I didn’t come all this way just to hear your boyfriend doing stand-up.”

Rapunzel smiles a little at that. Cassandra is a prickly one. It’s oddly refreshing; Eugene and the Snuggly Duckling crowd are all easy-going souls, even if they are a little rough around the edges. They always go soft on her, so to have this woman grate against her even after all her compliments is both bizarre and entertaining to her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.”

“No, by all means tell him. Let me be his first negative review.”

“I’m afraid that honour goes to my father instead.”

“Then he’s used to lukewarm receptions, surely?” Cassandra raises her eyebrows. “Anyway, I was still holding onto some dumb hope that my ex might spring up out of nowhere right as I got on stage, but… I guess she wasn’t ignoring me just to keep the suspense going.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, she’s a huge bitch.”

“Well, I’m sorry she let you down. You shouldn’t have had to go up there on your own. Even if you  _ did  _ absolutely kill it.” Rapunzel frowns deeply, taking a sip of her drink, until the metaphysical light bulb flickers on above her head. “Wait… wild thought. What if next time, you  _ don’t  _ go on stage alone?”

Cassandra turns to send her a quizzical look.

“I don’t follow.”

“I’ll be your bassist!” Rapunzel declares. “And, y’know, sing harmonies. Oh, we could start a band! And let our friendship bloom in the process. We’ll be band buddies! Bandies?”

“You play the bass?” Cassandra asks, dumbfounded.

“Well, er… hmm. Technically, no? But with some practice I could!” She holds her free hand out to Cassandra. “So, what do you think? Want to partner up?”

“Not even a little bit,” Cassandra responds flatly, not missing a beat. “Tonight was my last performance. It’s time to go back to playing alone in my room like every other washed up musician.”

“What?! No!” Rapunzel cries. “Cass, you’re really good and you clearly love doing this! You can’t give up now!”

“Why do you care so much?” Cassandra narrows her eyes. “I’ve given you my answer, so don’t try to talk me into joining you. You don’t  _ know  _ me, all right?”

“But…” Rapunzel falters. “But didn’t we… Wasn’t there a moment between us, back there?”

With a grimace, Cassandra looks away.

“I don’t think so. And that has nothing to do with  _ anything.” _

The final notes play, and from just beyond the doors, the crowd bursts into roaring applause. Cass takes the opportunity to turn her back on Rapunzel, taking a few steps towards the end of the alleyway.

“Wait. Cassandra… you’re leaving?”

“I did my bit,” she says, without turning around. “I did what I came here to do, so yeah, I’m leaving.”

“But… But Hookhand hasn’t finished playing!” Rapunzel says, with more desperation in her tone than she appreciates. “Don’t you want to stay and listen? Maybe you could have a drink with me and my boyfriend?”

“Tempting as that is, I’ll pass.” Cass tilts her head back slightly, briefly meeting Rapunzel’s eyes with a tired half-smile. “Thanks for the offer, but don’t expect to see me around these parts again, okay?”

Rapunzel wilts.

“All right. Uh… well, it was nice meeting you.”

“You too.” Taking a deep breath, she cranes her neck a little further. “Uh. I know I said nothing happened between us in there, but… it’s kinda cute that you thought so.”

At that, she turns on her heels and heads down the alleyway without looking back.

“Encore?” Hookhand calls, muffled from behind the door and met with deafening cheer. “Did somebody say encore?”

“I would have loved an encore,” Rapunzel murmurs, watching Cass until she turns the corner and vanishes into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I really just write a goddamn comedy routine for Eugene?? A whole bit?? I’d go into stand up if I wasn’t writing my jokes exclusively for a fictional character LOL  
> Anyway, this is another one of those projects I shouldn’t start because I’ll likely never finish, but it’s fun to write stuff so here I am. Honestly more than anything this was just an excuse to plug my music taste to anyone willing to listen. Go stan Neko Case, Star Witness is an incredible song that gives me Cass energy for some inexplicable reason


End file.
